


Phagia

by StarsGarters



Category: Captain America (Movies), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Crossover, Fuckbuddies, HYDRA Husbands, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Marvel Universe, Mpreg, Other, Why Did I Write This?, bad symbiotes, dub con, non con, questionable alien physiology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsGarters/pseuds/StarsGarters
Summary: Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins are sold to Carlton Drake as involuntary test subjects for his mysterious symbiote project. Things do not go as planned...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this after seeing Venom once, many months ago. I'm setting the time as right after Tony Stark comes out as Iron Man, but before Captain America is thawed out.

 

“Well, _Agent_ Rumlow, I suppose that you know the price for failure.” Rumlow’s jaw clinched. Pierce had just demoted him from Commander. Eight years of blood soaked devotion to the cause gone in a moment. It would have been kinder to shoot Rumlow and Pierce knew it.

The mission had been a clusterfuck from the moment they’d touched down in the frozen wasteland. They’d been charged with sabotaging the retrieval of the Valkyrie and the corpse of the star-spangled legend that died within it. 

“Yes, sir!” Rumlow stood at rigid attention, the vein on the his temple throbbing in rage as he ground his teeth.

“Report to HR for your status change. You are dismissed, _Agents._ ” Rumlow turned on his heel and stalked out of Pierce’s Triskelion office. Not for the first time Rollins pondered why a man with so many secrets to hide would have an office made of transparent glass walls.

“It could have been worse.” Rollins offered lamely in the elevator and Rumlow clicked his tongue in annoyance. He wasn’t in the mood for comfort. “We’re still breathing.” 

The elevator stopped with a sudden lurch and a hissing filled the chamber that made them gag, cough and drop to the floor in a pile of loose limbs and kevlar.

 

Rollins blinked away the remains of the sedative gas that had taken down them down. A hospital gown covered his scarred body and Rollins grimaced. Why bother with the sham of modesty? It wasn’t like he’d was going to survive whatever the techs had planned. He’d been to enough of these _disciplinary_ sessions to be sure of that. He looked up into the lenses of multiple security cameras. Ah. _They had an audience._

It was probably Pierce. The old bastard liked to watch. Never got his hands dirty. That’s why he had STRIKE. Rollins scanned the laboratory, looking for exits out of habit and not any particular hope.

 _More glass walls. More fucking glass walls._ Rumlow was in the cell next to his, pacing back and forth. Rollins knocked on the plexiglass wall and waved at him. Rumlow acknowledged him with a nod and resumed glaring at the technicians in the center of the detention area.

They’d never been to this facility, at least Rollins hadn’t. That wasn’t a surprise. SHIELD had black sites scattered all over the globe, operations in countries that weren’t as concerned with human rights as SHIELD loudly proclaimed to be. His muscles strained against the armholes of his hospital gown as he worked feeling back into his hands.

There were other prisoners in the cells across from them. Scraggly, pathetic creatures that looked like they’d been starving or strung out before being confined. The detritus of society. Disposable people. Rollins swallowed back his rising bile of anxiety. _Lab rats._

Rumlow stopped pacing when the doors to the lab opened and Carlton _fucking_ Drake strode into the room. Rollins didn’t bother to stand up. The pompous little prick oozed oily confidence and that meant there was going to be a speech. There was always a speech.

Speakers cracked in their cells as Drake orated. “Thank you to our anonymous benefactor for these fine volunteers for our cause. You are about to be a part of the next evolution of humanity. Truly you will help change the entire world for the better.”

“Yeah we didn’t volunteer, diet Tony Stark.” Rumlow spat, his arms crossed. Rollins snorted out a laugh. _Good one._ “How about you let us out of this place? We all go back to our lives and nobody dies.”

Drake nodded and pointed his finger at Rumlow. “You’re a funny guy. Very funny. _Diet Tony Stark_. Very funny.” Drake narrowed his eyes. “Stark wishes that he had my capabilities. Did Stark send out an exploratory space exhibition? Did he?” Drake’s voice pitched higher in his furor. “No! No, he did not. All Stark does is buzz around playing hero in a tin can suit while I am working towards the betterment of humanity. We need strong hosts. People in the prime of their lives, peak physical condition!” He looked Rumlow up and down, appraising him like livestock. Rollins’ fists clenched possessively.

“Oh I bet you do.” Rumlow purred as he returned the gaze, “Pretty little thing like you probably craves the attention. Let Daddy tell you that you’re his good boy. Just let me out of here and I’ll show you exactly what peak physical condition feels like against your skin.” Rumlow sucked on his teeth and Rollins fought back a smile. Brock was never _Daddy_ in their sporadic drunken fumblings.

Drake rolled his eyes at the offer, “Tempting, but we must sacrifice for science.” 

Rumlow’s breath fogged the plexiglass as he stepped close to Drake and slammed his palms against the barrier. “Let us go. Last warning.” Rollins knew that tone of voice and it made him smile even in their dire circumstances. Someone was going to die. Messily and painfully. He hoped it wouldn’t be them.

“Such a funny guy.” Drake tapped the plexiglass. “All muscles and no brains. No wonder he sold you to me. You weren’t that expensive by the way. Pocket change.” _Fucking Pierce._

“What happened to volunteers?” Rollins grated out, his voice harsh from disuse. “Giving that bullshit up already? What are you going to do to us?”

Drake stepped over to Rollins’ cell and smiled, oily with ambition and designer suits. “I prefer to demonstrate.” He snapped his fingers.“Introduce the symbiotes.”

Small doors slid open at the base of all the cells and metal containment boxes slid in. Rollins pressed himselfas far away as he could, Rumlow echoed his position on the other side of the wall. Nothing good was going to come out of those boxes. Drake sighed with satisfaction and snapped his fingers. “Cell number one please.”

A containment unit opened in the cell across from them, a scrawny woman with tangled hair screamed as something black and viscous oozed from the unit and then launched itself at her. Black webs entangled and ensnarled her body as she screamed in terror and agony. The screams stopped. She fell to the padded floor with a thud, the black goo absorbed into her body. Her hand twitched, spasmed.

“What the fuck?” Rumlow breathed, his eyes wide with fear. “What was that—?”

“That was the future.” Drake answered, “Get ready to be a part of it. Whether you like it or not. Cell number two please.”

The containment unit cracked opened with a hydraulic hiss and Rollins lunged at it, trying to flip the unit and pin the doors closed. A thin tentacle, yellow and shiny, whipped around his wrist. Rollins clawed at his skin, raw animal instinct screaming at him, _other, other, wrong, OTHER._ The ooze was strong as wire, flexible and mobile as it skittered over his skin. Rollins looked up and saw Rumlow staring at him in horror, tears coursing down his face pounding on the plexiglass with bloody fists.

 _I never told you—,_ was his last conscious thought as Rollins fell over upon the cold cell floor into darkness.

 

WANT. Animalistic need rumbled through him. WANT. It echoed against the walls of his skull, curled around his guts and his groin.

Rollins rubbed at his temple and groaned. That wasn’t his thought, was it? He must have gotten a concussion when he fell— he clawed at the hospital gown, pulling away the cloth to expose his chest. There was nothing there. Nothing wound about his wrist. Nothing seeping into his skin. Rollins gasped with relief and struggled to choke back the urge to vomit.

Rumlow was laying face first on the padded floor of his cell. Rollins reached out his hand to his commander and heard, WANT! It was loud enough to rattle the walls of the cell, but no one else seemed to hear it. WANT!

“What do you want?” Rollins whispered. He didn’t want the techs to overhear him talking like a crazy person. He couldn’t show any weakness that might lead to them discarding him as a faulty specimen. There were stains on the floor that bleach and pressure washing hadn’t quite gotten rid of.

EVERYTHING. It was a succinct and sincere reply.

Rollins blinked. “That’s a lot.”

IT IS.

“We’ll have to start small. How about a name?” Rollins pulled his knees to his chest to conceal his lips.

PHAGE.

“If I remember my basic Latin, that’s _to eat_?”

CONSUME. ENGULF. DEVOUR.

“I’m Jack Rollins. I guess you’re the goo in the box, then?” Rollins watched the techs bustle about, Drake was nowhere to be seen. “Scared the hell out of me.”

A small hum of contemplation that rattled his eardrums. YOU ARE QUITE CALM FOR A NEW HOST.

“I’ve seen a lot, a talking parasite doesn’t even touch Asgardian gods with thunder hammers. Broke two of my ribs trying to take that blonde bastard down.” Rollins closed his eyes as he felt a gentle rumble of discontent from within his body.

A TALKING LIVING WEAPON FROM OUTER SPACE. IS THAT MORE IMPRESSIVE?

It seemed to hunger for praise, just like someone he knew. Rollins glanced over at Rumlow. “It’s very impressive. I want things too, you know. Can you feel what I want?”

YESSSS. A sibilant hiss over his neurons. FREEDOM. POWER. AND HIM. YOU WANT HIM. I WANT THEM TOO.

“You want Rumlow?” Rollins was confused. “I mean he’s a total pain in the ass and he snores—“

YOUR RUMLOW IS HOST TO MY TOXIC. ANOTHER SYMBIOTE. Phage seemed exasperated at his confusion. UNDERSTAND?

“Barely.” Rollins looked at Rumlow, puddle of saliva spread on the padded floor underneath his lips. “You know you don’t have to shout, I can hear you just fine.”

THIS IS NOT SHOUTING. Rollins sighed, it was shouting. WE ARE HUNGRY.

“Excuse me?” Rollins called out to one of the technicians who startled in surprise. “Can I get some chow? And I have to piss.”

The weasel-faced technician gasped, “Oh my god. He’s conscious and coherent! Get Mr. Drake!”

“I don’t want Drake, I want a sandwich and a bucket.” Rollins said, but no one was listening at that point. They scurried around pressing buttons and writing down notes while staring at him.

Phage was squirming around underneath his skin in distress, ripples underneath his skin. “What’s wrong?” Rollins asked under his breath.

TOXIC! The yellow symbiote curled out of Rollin’s wrist skin towards Rumlow, like unfolding fern fronds. MUST TOUCH. WE ARE BONDED. IT HURTS, JACK. And it did hurt. Jack’s bones ached, a gnawing hunger deep in the pit of his gut.

Drake arrived, slightly out of breath as if he’d ran the entire way to the laboratory. “Well, well. Look at you,” he preened. “Look at you.” Drake licked his lips.

Jack swallowed back his urge to rip out Drake’s eyes. “Mr. Drake, I would like to make a request.”

“Yes, yes. I heard. We’ll bring up some food and a bucket—“

Jack shook his head. “No. He’s dying.” Jack indicated Rumlow. “I— I would like to say goodbye, I would like to touch him one last time.” Jack knelt on the floor and bowed his head before Drake in subjugation. Nothing made small men feel powerful like a big man on his knees. Jack knew how to assume the position, when he had to. “Please. I’ll tell you anything you want. Just let me say goodbye.”

Drake raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, Jack Rollins, what does it feel like to have a symbiote inside you?”

Jack stared at the padded floor. “It’s— crowded, Mr. Drake. And confusing.” _Tell the man what he wants to know, we never said it had to be the_ truth _._

Drake smirked and leaned close to the plexiglass. “Have the symbiote ask me. Make it beg.” Drake looked an awful lot like Pierce at that moment and Jack clenched his jaw.

DO NOT LIKE. Phage smoldered with echoed anger. KEEPS US FROM OURS!

“Ask Mr. Drake nicely, Phage. For your host.” _I am going to make this man suffer in ways he’s never comprehended. I’ll take everything he cares about and reduce it to rubble and ash. Then it’s Pierce’s turn. Make the whole world burn._ “Please.”

Jack’s thoughts seemed to bleed over into Phage’s consciousness and it snarled, YESSSSS. A balloon like glob of yellow goo emerged from the skin at the junction of Jack’s neck. White smears indicated eyes and a slit of a mouth opened to display too many dagger-sharp teeth. “PLEASE.”

A single word was enough to make Drake’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. “First communication! Astounding.” He gestured at the heavily armed guards and both cell doors opened.

Rollins rushed into Rumlow’s cell, ignoring everyone staring at them, especially Drake.

“Commander?” Rollins gathered Rumlow up into his arms, his lips were blue-tinged and his cold limbs limp. “Come on now, don’t leave me here with all these pricks.” He pressed his hand over Rumlow’s heart, felt Phage extend through his palm into Rumlow. Sudden warmth bloomed, blossomed into searing heat as the symbiote took over his body. Rollins was in the back seat of his own body, while Phage took the wheel.

YOU WANT THIS HOST. YOU WANT TO PENETRATE HIM. CONSUME HIM. HE IS TASTY.

 _You’re not going to hurt him. I WON’T LET YOU._ Jack fought for control of his body and Phage hissed in annoyance.

TOO SLOW. Phage fastened their mouth upon Rumlow’s in a parody of a kiss. Rollins gagged as a his tongue swelled up and dislocated his jaw, plunging down Rumlow’s throat. BETTER. The thought strummed through Rollins’ body with satisfaction. Rumlow’s body shook and quivered in his arms, thrashing with convulsions. Rollins held him tight while Phage finished his bizarre alien french kiss.

As the tongue tentacle retracted back into his mouth, it remolded his face and reshaped his jaw. It felt like spiders crawling beneath his skin. Rumlow’s eyes opened, a thin ring of glowing blue surrounding the irises, and then they opened wider in surprise. He pushed Rollins off of him and wiped his drool covered mouth with the back of his hand. “Jesus Jack. You know we don’t _kiss_. And could you use a little less tongue next time— Why are you looking at me like that?“ Rollins beamed at his prickly commander. “When you smile, I get nervous.”

“Looks like you’re back from the dead.” Drake tapped on the cell control panel buttons. “How touching, now back to your cell—“

“NO!” Rollins and Phage snarled simultaneously with a snap of their jaws. “WE STAY.” 

“Jack? What the fuck is happening?” Rumlow pointed at Phage bobbing from Rollins’ neck, “You’ve got a _talking tumor._ ”

“WE ARE NOT A CANCER.” Phage sniffed indignantly. The creature was taking on more and more human traits the longer it was inside of Rollins. Extremely adaptable. Improvisational. _Impressive._ The symbiote’s maw cracked into a toothy parody of a human grin. “WE ARE PHAGE.”


	2. Chapter 2

“We are never going to shut up, are we?” Rollins snapped at his resident alien, rubbed his eyes and sighed. It was late, there was only a skeleton crew of security staff and a few unlucky techs who drew the night shift rotation. Rumlow was snoring on his cot. It was a comforting sound. Phage was a chatterbox. He reminded Jack of a STRIKE codebreaker named Murphy. Murphy had to be left in the transport on ops because he was physically incapable of not blurting out whatever was buzzing around in his vegan brain at the time.“All I’m asking for is a few minutes of silence, with my own thoughts, please Phage. A few moments of quiet. Maybe a nap.”

WHY? YOU NO LONGER NEED SLEEP. Phage protested in his brain, a buzzing of mental bees. AND YOU ARE WELCOME.

“I didn’t say thank you.” Rollins tried to get comfortable on his berth, he’d gotten soft being away from the field. He used to be able to nod off in the middle of an mortar shelling with a tree root and a couple of rocks for a pillow.

YOU HAD CANCER. NOW YOU DO NOT. YOU ARE WELCOME. That made Rollins’ eyes widen.

“You cured cancer?”

LIKE IT WAS HARD. Phage sounded smug. WE REWROTE YOUR GENETIC CODE TO REMOVE THE ABERRANT GROWTHS. YOUR BODY PLEASES US AND WE WILL KEEP IT.

“Well, thanks? Try not to fuck it up, it’s the only body I’ve got.”

PFFT. Phage snorted in annoyance and then asked Jack, WHAT IS HYDRA? The death’s head emblem rose in a red welt on the back of Rollins’ hand and he slapped the other on top of it to conceal it.

“Can you not do that?” Rollins hissed under his breath. “Can’t you just go through my memories or something like that?” He’d felt Phage skittering around in his mind before, like a squirrel tap-dancing on his cerebellum. What were memories after all, if not a loose collection of chemicals and electricity? Phage had the potential to be able to manipulate his flesh like clay on a potter's wheel.

A moment of quiet and then the welt vanished. WE LIKE TO TALK TO YOU. IT IS LESS LONELY.

“Look Phage, there are certain things I can’t talk about and that is pretty much number one on the list.” Rumlow was pretending to sleep, listening to them whisper in the darkness. Jack could tell because he stopped snoring. “Why are you lonely?”

TOXIC HAS NOT COMMUNICATED. IT IS— WORRISOME. Jack felt an unwelcome flood of anxiety course through his bloodstream. YOUR RUMLOW IS A GOOD HOST. THERE SHOULD NOT BE SO MUCH SILENCE. TOXIC NEEDS OUR CHEMICALS, NEEDS THE BOND. BUT TOXIC NEVER ASKS. NOT UNTIL TOXIC IS SUFFERING.

Jack sighed, “So your boyfriend is an uncommunicative asshole. It happens. Lord knows, it happens. Just give him some space and let him sort out his shit. It can’t be easy to be crammed inside of Rumlow, he’s just—“ Jack smiled in the dark, “So _short.”_

“Fuck off, Jack.” Rumlow grumbled and rolled over. The snoring resumed.

“Are they—“ Jack swallowed back his own anxiety, “Are they _merged_ alright?” The blue symbiote had yet to show itself, other than an occasional ring of blue around Rumlow’s green irises that caught the lab lights and made Jack’s mouth suddenly dry. 

Phage was quiet for too long. When the symbiote finally responded, Jack squeezed his eyes shut. WE DON’T KNOW.

 

A buzzer rang at six o’clock AM and Rollins stood at parade rest in the middle of the cell. Rumlow crossed his arms and scowled at the nervous doctor who did their twice daily assessments. She didn’t seem like a bad person, but Jack had seen a lot of good people justify doing terrible things. He’d just never been behind this side of the glass before. “Gentlemen, if you could please answer the questions? Thank you.”

“Of course, Dr. Skirvin.” Rumlow replied in a mild tone that made the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck prickle. “Please ask us anything.”

“Have you communicated with your symbiote today?” Dr. Skrivin began running through the check list. Communication. Hunger. Strange urges. Check. Check. And check. 

“Yes.” Jack replied and before she could ask the follow up, “At least twenty times an hour. Chatty thing.”

Rumlow shook his head. “No.”

“Not at all?” Her lips drew taut with worry. “Not a whisper or even a non-verbal cue?”

“Nothing.” Rumlow rubbed his bearded chin and apologized with a shrug. “I’m sorry. I’m a disappointment to you.”

“No, no. We just like to monitor your progress since this is unexplored territory for all of us. Let’s go through the rest of the questions—“ She pushed her glasses up her nose.

“Drake is going to get rid of me because I’m a failed host, isn’t he?” Rumlow said, soft and resigned. The woman in the cell opposite them began to moan. “I’m not a failure like that, but I’m not what Drake wants. I’m running out of time. Aren’t I, Dr. Skirvin?”

WE WILL PROTECT—! Phage shivered with rage and Jack did his best to clamp down on his symbiote’s urges. Brock was up to something.

“There are no failures in science, Mr.—“ She paused as Brock pushed his hair out of his face. They’d actually gotten a shower the other day. Hosed off in a biohazard unit. Maybe next time they'd get some pants or a deck of playing cards.

“Call me Brock, please. Please Dr. Skirvin. I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone else.” Brock stepped close to the plexiglass. 

“About the alien?” Dr. Skirvin chewed on her lip. Was he going to try to seduce her? Jack didn’t like the odds of that. She was wearing a wedding ring and he’d heard her mention soccer practice so that meant kids. She'd have too much to lose to fall for Brock's sculpted cheekbones, muscular arms and pert backside-- 

“I’ve—“ Brock sighed, “I’ve got a kid out there. And if I vanish from his life without a word, he’s going to think that I’m a deadbeat, just like my old man was. And I can’t do that to him. He’s only eight years old, eight years. I promised him that I wouldn’t miss his big game.” Brock’s fist clenched, a tear rolled down his cheek and he sighed. “What day is it, Dr. Skirvin?”

“June 10th. Brock. It’s June 10th.” She watched the tear trail down Brock’s olive skin. Jack was stunned into silence. _Clever bastard._ Manipulate the _mommy._

Brock nodded, more tears joining the first. “Thank you, Dr. Skirvin. I hope— I hope he’ll forgive his old man. Maybe find that bicycle I’ve got hidden in the garage. I wasn’t a good father, I couldn’t be. Serving my country. Running around taking out terrorists and bad guys. But maybe, maybe he’ll look on me kindly. If I don’t _disappear._ ” He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I guess we should answer the rest of the questions now. Thank you Dr. Skirvin.”

If the woman had had any doubts about her role in human experimentation before, Brock _fucking_ Rumlow had just cemented them. _What a performance,_ Jack wanted to applaud. Phage stirred in confusion at his swelling of pride, surging down his arm. _Rumlow got a vasectomy right out of high school,_ Jack explained.  _There's no kid._   _He’s just that good at lying and manipulation._ Jack rubbed the inside of his wrist in a slow, soothing motion that the alien liked.

_We might get out of here alive, after all…_

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for non con alien coerced sex!

“I spy, with my little eye, something pink.” Jack picked at a hangnail and yawned.

“The coffee mug logo on the main control counter, next to the override switches for all the cell locks.” Rumlow bounced the back of his head against the wall, a soft thud, thud, thud. “You know, Jack, I’m beginning to think that Carlton Drake has absolutely no idea what to do with us. That’s a damn shame. I can think of at least a dozen exciting things to do with our combined skills.”

“I’m not really sure what those skills are. I guess I could do a really creepy ventriloquist act. Did I tell you I had cancer?” Rollins yawned. Boredom was a slow insidious poison.

“You did. Nice that cleared up.” A scream of muffled exhausted agony from the cell across the way. “Maria is having a bad day. Hey girl.” Rumlow waved his fingers at her. “She’s not gonna last much longer.”

THAT ONE CAN DIE. Phage sniffed in Jack’s brain.

“That’s not very nice. She hasn’t done anything to you.” Jack chided his alien symbiote. “Unless you’re not talking about her?”

Phage emerged from Rollins’ skin, a swelling of yellow fleshy goo. “THAT ONE IS VENOM. THAT ONE CAN DIE.”

“Why do you aliens all have names that sound like you’re in death metal bands?” Rumlow asked, completely unimpressed by Phage’s dramatic proclamation. “Or professional wrestlers?”

Phage puffed up in indignation. It looked like a pissed off mushroom with teeth. “OUR TRUE NAMES CANNOT BE COMPREHENDED BY YOUR MINDS. OUR TRUE NAMES ARE RICH IN HISTORY AND ACCOMPLISHMENT. WE ADAPT TO YOUR PITIFUL LANGUAGES. I AM THE CONSUMER OF KNOWLEDGE, THE GATHERER OF INFORMATION, THE—”

“The scout.” Rumlow interrupted with a sigh. “You’re the scout.”

Phage deflated a bit, “WELL, YES.” Hmm. You needed a scout when you had a squad. Interesting.

“What’s that one’s true name?” Jack asked, curious to see if his hunch would play out. 

“DEFENDER OF THE RACE. SOMETHING. THICK SOMETHING. VENOM IS STUPID.” Phage grumbled and deflated further. “THAT ONE IS NOT WORTH TALKING ABOUT.”

“So that’s the tank. The defense.” Jack ran his fingertip over Phage’s slick skin. “Where’s your leader, Phage?”

“RIOT IS NOT HERE.” Phage leaned into his touch, a globby feline. “NEED TO KNOW BASIS. YOU UNDERSTAND THAT.”

“What’s Toxic’s true name?” Rumlow asked, his voice calm but his knuckles white with tension. 

“THE SUBJUGATOR. THE CONQUEROR. THE CREATOR OF DYNASTIES. THE MAGNIFICENT—“ There was an odd fondness and pride in the symbiote’s tone. “IT GOES ON FOR A WHILE.”

Jack whistled softly. “Sounds like you’ve got royalty living under your skin, Rumlow.”

Rumlow chafed his arms with his hands and looked at the padded floor. “I guess that’s one translation.” Maria screamed again, the background soundtrack to their imprisonment. Rumlow curled up on his bunk, put his hands over his ears. “I really wish she’d hurry up and die.”

 

Maria was more tenacious than Jack expected. She held onto life with a feverish desperation. Jack leaned his head against the glass and gave her a small tight smile. She curled into a ball with a convulsion and Jack sighed. He looked over at Rumlow, pale and wan. He hadn’t lost any of his musculature, but his skin was pulled tight over it. Veins bulged up and down his arms. He panted shallow breaths and dug his fingernails into his palms, red crescent dents in his skin. “What’s wrong with him?” Jack asked Phage, but the chatty alien was oddly silent.

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” Rumlow snapped. “Just shut the fuck up and stop talking to your little pet! You’re driving me fucking insane.” He glared at the tech unlucky enough to be checking their cell console. The tech flinched back from his frankly predatory stare. “Remember how they taught us to find something to focus on to keep our wits about us in training for shit like this?”

Jack nodded and Rumlow continued, “I’m going to murder everyone in this building and then, I’m gonna find their families. I think I’ll go all the way back to grandma and gramps. Fucking _erase_ their line from the planet. Wipe out their genetic codes. Keep their stupidity from polluting the—“ Rumlow licked his pale thin lips. “That’s my _goal_. That’s what keeps me from screaming as loud as her.” He waved at Maria. "Hey girl."

Jack scratched his chin. “I was thinking about that shitty motel in Kansas.” _Mistress tequila and Jack's stubble burning Rumlow's inner thighs…_ “Guess our happy places are a little different, but I like yours too.”

Rumlow’s cheeks turned a faint pink and he scowled. “You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?”

“Never in a million years, Commander.” The lights dimmed, signaling the change to the night shift. Jack stretched out on his bunk. “Try to get some rest, you look like shit. Maybe ask for more rations?” He swore that Brock’s eyes were glowing incandescent blue in the dimmed lights. _Must just be a reflection. Now back to my happy place._

 

_“I’ve seen the way you look at me. You know I’m not a homo like you, but you still look at me like that. How dare you look at me like that? I am your commanding officer and I hold your life in my hands. You will show me the respect I deserve.” Brock pushed Jack down against the motel bed and pressed his lips against Jack’s, reeking of booze, buffalo wings and other horrible choices. Brock seized Jack’s throat and squeezed, breathing upon Jack’s skin. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll gut you. From here,” Brock trailed his hand down Jack’s chest and grasped the swelling bulge in Jack’s shorts. “To here… So shut up and follow orders.”_

It was so warm. Downy hairs tickled Jack’s nose and he pressed forward, seeking the familiar scent of salty skin, tangy sweat. He gave his hips an experimental, instinctual thrust. It had been such a long dry spell and he was so achingly hard. He slipped in, immersed in a hot, wet heat. Jack’s eyes flew open. He was spooning Brock on his bunk, his limbs wrapped about his commanding officer. There was a thick yellow band of fleshy goo joining their hips together, barely concealing the fact that Jack was buried balls deep.

“What the hell are you doing, Jack?” Brock asked with a gasp as Jack tried to pull out. It was as if their skin was glued together with flexible epoxy.

“It appears that we are—“ Jack swallowed hard as Brock’s heat sucked him in, their thighs wetter and wetter. “Exchanging fluids? I dunno? Phage?” The symbiote purred in response. A low, deep rumble that reminded Jack of a giant wild cat. The vibration was not unpleasant _. Like Magic Fingers on a cheap motel bed_ …

Brock thrashed in his grip, throwing elbows and Jack had to restrain him. He growled in Brock’s ear,“Stop trying to break my nose, you asshole. I’m not doing this on purpose. I don’t really like audiences.” The night tech was furiously taking notes and adjusting the cameras in the cell for the best angles. Maria was watching them through her fingers, horrified. That made Brock let loose a steady stream of profanity in several languages. “I didn’t know you spoke Japanese. What was that other stuff, Swahili?”

“Drake is gonna jerk off to this, isn’t he?” Some of the fight went out of Brock and he shrugged out of Jack’s grasp. A red flush colored his shoulders and rose up his neck, a hint of his former vitality.

“Probably.” Jack’s hips churned and pumped, chasing his pleasure. “I swear I’m not doing this. It’s like Phage took over my body.” _Well, maybe like 75% of his body. If you were going to do a job then you should give it 100% of your effort. That was just a job well done._ “This is so _weird._ ”

“Oh I’m sure you’re not enjoying any of this.” Brock sighed in resignation and Jack risked pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “I _hate_ this place so much. So much.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the tags have updated. Again.

There was nothing quite like being woken up with a couple of hearty kicks to the ribs. Jack cracked a bleary eye open and pushed Rumlow’s foot away. That effort used up all the energy he had and he covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. Everything was too bright. Too loud. The floor was just fine. “Leave me alone, I’m dying from a twenty minute long orgasm.” It was indeed too much of a good thing.

“Interesting.” Drake’s slimy voice oozed over the speakers. “We know very little about xenobiology, almost nothing about their reproductive cycles. Let’s review the tape… This is _extraordinary._ Back to the 10 minute mark, you can see where the receiving partner decides to stop struggling and _take it._ Do we have any video of their genitals?”

“Yeah, he’s definitely jerking off to that later.” Rumlow sighed and gave Jack one more kick for good measure. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”

Jack grunted and gave him a thumbs up. “Trust me. If that happens again, it will kill me. I feel like someone just hollowed out my bones and filled them with lead. I don’t even know— Stop kicking me!“ Jack grabbed Rumlow’s foot and squinted up at him. Rumlow was _glowing._ His hair was glossy, his cheeks rosy and his eyes were an alarming shade of neon blue, even the whites. “What happened to you? You look _good?_ For like the first time since we got here.”

“You look like shit. Just like always.” Rumlow wrestled his foot free from Jack’s limp grip. “Where’s your little alien bitch?”

“Phage?” Jack rubbed his heavily stubbled chin. “I think he's asleep. Remember that twenty minute orgasm? I think it drained the little guy. How’s your hitchhiker?”

Rumlow blinked as if he hadn’t contemplated his own possession for a while. “I— I don’t know? I mean, I feel a little funny. Kinda weird. But that’s probably because I just got reamed for twenty minutes! With an audience.” He gritted his teeth. “Now I’m really going to have to kill everyone here.” A tech looked up at his words and Rumlow shrugged. “Look, I told you when you locked me up. You all just brought the pain upon yourselves.”

“If you keep telling them that you’re going to kill them, they’re not going to let you out.” Jack thought about getting off of the padded floor, but then decided against it.

“Oh they know I’m just kidding.” Rumlow winked at the tech with his unnerving blue eyes. “They’re never going to let us out of here.”

Carlton Drake took that as his cue to enter the laboratory. “Why would you want to leave? You’re well cared for and essential to the next evolution of humanity. You don’t starve. You’re not abused. You even have conjugal visits. We’re very accepting of alternative lifestyles.” Drake pushed a few buttons on his data-pad. “Perhaps we should put Jack in the same cell as Maria and see if the same reaction occurs.”

Jack raised his hand from his position on the floor, “You’d need a fork-lift because I’m not budging. Also, I like guys. So, nope.” And Phage would probably murder Maria just to get to Venom. They had some really bad blood between them.

Drake nodded while pushing more buttons, his brows knitted in thought. “Understood. But what I don’t understand is how our sensors are reading such drastic changes in Brock’s vital signs. You seem to have become healthier, overnight? How does that happen? We might need more blood samples.”

Jack managed to summon the energy to sit up with a groan. “Now I can answer that.”

“I’m listening.” Drake leaned close to the cell wall.

Jack pointed at his hospital gown clad crotch. “Magic dick. Abracadabra motherfucker.” He flipped off Drake with a grin and then flopped back onto the ground. Rumlow snorted a laugh and Jack joined him. The whole situation was beyond ridiculous.

“Laughter is very beneficial. It shows that you’re well-adjusted to your surroundings like proper zoo animals. And what is the purpose of a zoo?” Drake handed his data-pad to a tech. “It’s not to sell cotton candy and peanuts. The purpose of a zoo is to protect and breed endangered, unique wildlife. I can’t think of a rarer animal than you.” A strange light glimmered in his eyes. “And your offspring.”

“Our _what_?” Jack sat up, suddenly nauseated with dread. “Drake, I thought a scientist like you had taken high school sex ed. Babies don’t work that way.”

“Ladies and gentlemen. Please gather around. It's not every day that we change the evolution of humanity.” Drake laughed, "Maybe every other Tuesday, we do have a schedule to keep." The technicians joined in with his laughter, a nervous titter. “Okay, let’s all applaud Brock's monumental achievement.” 

“What the fuck are you saying?” Brock lunged at the plexiglass and hammered at it with his fists. “What the fuck is going on!?” The plexiglass rippled from the impact and the gathered audience took an involuntary step backwards.

“You’re pregnant, Brock.” Drake began to applaud and everyone, other than Maria and Jack, joined in. "Congratulations."

   ----

“So the symbiote appears to be functioning as a surrogate uterus. That’s what we suspect.” Dr. Skirvin concluded her presentation and flinched under Brock’s neon-blue stare. “We can't tell how many-- it seems like _a lot_ of individual life signs. They keep multiplying. We might have to perform surgery when the— the—when they come to term.” She looked at Phage who was bobbing out from Jack’s chest. “Does that seem correct?”

“MORE OR LESS.” Phage reached out a probe and stroked Brock’s arm possessively.

“What did I SAY about TOUCHING me?” Brock hissed and slapped the yellow goo off of his arm.

“THE HOST NEEDS REGULAR INFUSIONS OF— NUTRITION.” Phage wrapped a cuff around Brock’s ankle. “WE WILL NUTURE. WE SLEEP NOW.” Phage began to purr again. _Like a drunk cat gargling phlegm._

Brock stared daggers at Jack who shrugged. “I mean, I guess I’m fond of you, but I wouldn’t say the big L word. Are we going to have to have a baby shower? I never know what to bring to bring to those--“ Dr. Skirvin excused herself with a nervous smile and Jack leaned back against the plexiglass wall.“Jesus, Brock. What the hell are we going to do?”

“I just need a weapon. And some time.” Brock whispered. “That’s all I need. Then I can figure out what to do.” He wrapped his arm around his abdomen, unconsciously protective. Jack raised an eyebrow. “I just need a weapon and some time. But they’re going to be watching us even more closely now. ”

“Might as well pray for a miracle. I'm willing to try.” Jack crossed himself out of sheer muscle memory. “Do miracles happen to people like us?” 

 

A miracle in a dirty grey hoodie appeared during the night. He took pictures with his phone and skulked about the laboratory.

“Brock.” Jack roused his commander, “Looks like our prayers have been answered.”

“Hey!” Brock called out and tapped on the glass, “Hey you!” The man in the grey hoodie made eye contact with Brock and flinched at his glowing eyes. _Shit._ “Hey! Just push the blue button on the console!” Brock cried out, his voice muffled by the glass, but the man had moved to the cell opposite them. Maria’s cell. He seemed to recognize her and grabbed a chair.

“No, no, no, not her! Not her!” Brock yelled, pounding on the cell wall. “I have to get out of here. I have to get out! I can’t be in a cage!” Maria’s cell shattered and Jack’s hopes plummeted. A simple chair wouldn’t open their thick prison walls. They were too special. Drake’s prizes. He didn't have to travel to outer space for more aliens, now that he had a breeding pair.

Black ichor oozed from Maria’s frail body and flung itself into the man’s body. He jerked and spasmed upon the floor as an alarm blared overhead.

NO. Phage intoned, deep within Jack’s brain. NOT THAT ONE. VENOM SHALL NOT ESCAPE. Hatred flowed through Jack’s veins, bile-black poison. Jack pushed Brock to the side, put his hand upon their prison wall and let the burning, vileness flow from his fingertips. Yellow acid bubbled, sizzled and ate through the glass as Jack wiped an X across the wall. Phage wrapped around his fist, hardened into alien iron knuckles. Jack grinned as he punched the weakened barrier with an inhuman strength that lit up his body with exhilaration.

Brock laughed, his mouth grinning with anticipation. “All I need is a weapon.”

Jack drew back his arm. “ _I’m_ your weapon.” The wall finally broke beneath his fist and Jack let out a howl of triumph. He stalked out into the laboratory, still clad in a hospital gown with his ass hanging out. 

The man in the grey hoodie was gone. Phage hissed in a sibilant language that Jack didn’t understand, but that he instinctively  _knew._ “I know buddy, we’ll get him. I don’t know why we need to, but it seems real important to you.”

Brock grabbed something out of the center console and jammed it into the computer.

“I don’t think we have time for that—“ Jack began, but Brock’s fingers flew across the keyboard in a blur. Of course, he’d memorized the passwords and logins as the techs typed them in. He’d been staring at them for weeks.A swell of pride rose in Jack’s chest and Phage grunted in appreciation.

“Done.” Brock pulled out the thumb drive and picked up a sharp piece of shattered plastic. His eyes glowed blue with malice. “ _Now let’s get to work_.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brutal violence, blood, decapitation and Denny's.

“Why didn’t you do this earlier? We could have busted out of here weeks ago!” Jack barked at Phage as he wrapped his fingers around a security guard’s neck, crushing his larynx like a ripe fruit. He tossed the carcass to the side. The symbiote amplified his considerable strength by magnitudes.He flung another guard through a reinforced window in the security center and Jack pulsed with his newfound power. This was what Drake was looking for. This is what HYDRA dreamed of. Alien super soldier serum. He could take on the Hulk! Well, maybe if he got the drop on the green freak. “Well? I’m waiting!”

THERE WAS NO NEED. NOW THERE IS. Phage flung Jack’s body in front of Brock, blocking a hail of bullets. Jack winced, anticipating the impact. It wasn’t a bad way to go, protecting Brock. At least they wouldn’t be trapped in a plexiglass prison, breathing filtered air and eating bland food. HAVE FAITH, Phage chided. WE PROTECT OURS.

The bullets fell upon the concrete floor, a clinking hail of lead. Jack squared his shoulders, cracked his neck and grinned with too many teeth at the terrified guards. “You are all so _fucked._ ” Jack lunged, seized a guard by his ankles and beat the others into a bloody pulp with his human bludgeon. Jack stopped when one of the legs ripped off. He tossed the leg over his shoulder and strode back to Brock, bloody footprints trailing in his wake.

Brock stripped the uniform off of the strangled guard, not bothering to look up. “Find some clothes. Naked people draw attention.”

Jack leaned down and breathed in Brock’s ear, hard with blood lust and violence. “I just took out a whole squad for you. Say _please_.” Blood dripped onto Brock’s forearm.

Brock smiled, thin and cruel. He beckoned for Jack to come even closer. Jack didn’t see the vicious backhanded slap, but he sure as hell felt it. “Get your shit together Jack. This place is going to be swarming with agents soon and I don’t think we want any of our former colleagues to know we’re still alive.” Brock stole the man’s shoes.

“Ow.” Jack felt his nasal cartilage shift back into place as Phage healed him. “I don’t think anyone here is going to fit my inseam.” Phage shimmied and rippled up his spinal cord and Jack watched in amazement as his symbiote covered his body in a skin-tight uniform mimicking Brock’s. “We are going to have a serious talk about your tactical capabilities when we get out of here. This is pretty damned cool.” 

“You look like a fetish model.” Brock snorted, his eerie blue eyes alight.

“Exactly what kind of porn are you into, Rumlow?” Jack quipped and held up his hands in mock surrender as Brock rounded on him.

Phage proclaimed, “TELL US WHERE TO GO. WE ARE YOUR SHIELD. WE ARE YOURS.”

“Fine.” Brock peered at the security feed and tapped on the screen. “Parking garage is locked down. How fast can you run?”

“I’m not built for speed—“ Jack began.

Brock interrupted with an impatient gesture. “Not you, shithead.”

“VERY FAST.” Phage extended from Jack’s fingers, drew Brock into his arms and swaddled him in a cradle of goo.

“It’s like you’re in one of those baby carriers—“ Jack couldn’t resist touching Brock’s nose. “Adorable.”

 

 

Jack fell to his knees in an alleyway in San Francisco, panting from exertion. And stark raving naked as Phage retracted into his skin. A terrible, gnawing hunger spasmed through Jack’s guts. Brock peered around the corner, assessing their situation.

“What the hell?” A voice from the darkness behind them.“Find another alley for that kinky shit—“ Jack’s mouth salivated and he moved towards the voice. His teeth grew longer, sharper. His jaw reformed into a gaping maw as he advanced upon the unlucky soul. He should have gagged. He should have retched. He should have heaved his guts out right there on the pavement.

He didn’t. _Crunchy. Very crunchy._ The only thing that mattered was satiating his hunger, so he could protect his mate— protect his offspring— protect the future of the species— protect and _devour!_ Phage’s emotions bled into Jack’s mind, churned and threatened to obliterate what made him Jack Rollins, what made him _human—_ No!

“I am _not_ your _fucking ride._ ” Jack pulled back, wrenching control from Phage. “Don’t you ever do that again.” Jack warned the symbiote. Jack dropped the headless torso onto the pavement. He looked at Brock, leaning against the alley wall and snapped in irritation, “What?”

“You just ate a guy’s head.” Brock raised an eyebrow in judgment and Jack spat upon the ground.

“That’s not the worst thing you’ve ever seen me do.” He was still so _hungry._

Brock flicked his fingers at Jack, dismissing his pout. “Well, are you going to leave that there? People start asking questions when they find decapitated bodies. Just— get your shit together, Rollins.”

WE USED UP OUR STORED ENERGY. WE NEEDED TO REPLENISH. Phage muttered in Jack’s brain. WE MUST STAY STRONG.

“Yeah but you could at least warn a guy before chomping down.” Jack knelt down and ripped off an arm. “This is really gross.”

YOU CANNOT TASTE IT.

“Yeah, but the _texture…_ ” Jack whined before his maw distended, jaw dropped down and he sprouted a mouthful of razors.

 

“So you’re sure that no one saw you making a withdrawal from the ATM?” Brock finished his second plate of bacon and eggs, grabbed the hot sauce and started shoveling hash browns down his throat. Jack nursed a cup of black coffee, swishing it around his mouth occasionally when Brock wasn’t looking.

“Nope. They technically saw that guy from HR that would always give me the stink eye, remember that turd? I borrowed his weasel face.” The ATM metal ripped under his fingers like wet tissue. “I’m glad we picked up some new, _real_ clothes too, because spontaneous instant nudity draws attention and there’s a lot of fucking car alarms in San Fran.”

“I still can’t believe that woman asked for your phone number after that,” Brock slathered a piece of toast in butter and strawberry jam. “Desperate bitches.”

“Brock Rumlow, are you jealous?” Jack leaned forward and kicked Brock under the table with the side of his foot.

“I’ve watched you eat a person. You’re a _real_ fucking catch, Jack.” Brock licked a dribble of red jam from the corner of his thin lips.

Jack shrugged. “I guess that if I have to have some _exotic_ meals to keep this going, I guess I can think of some people who I’d like to take out to dinner. Possibly the Secretary of Defense or a mouthy little bastard of a CEO? But the _texture_ , dude, it’s really hard to get used to.”

Brock pointed his fork at Jack. “Oh boo hoo. You have to eat _ultimate_ Paleo occasionally? I get knocked up with thousands of monster babies and I don’t even know what hole they’re gonna come out of!” Brock set down his fork and mashed his face in his hand. “Am I just going to randomly explode in a puddle of alien slime?” He muttered, “They better not be _ass babies_.” Jack spit his lukewarm coffee out into his mug and pressed his fist against his mouth.

“I’m sorry. Really, I am.” Jack broke into giggles and stopped when Brock twirled the butter knife around his fingers with murderous intent. “Sorry. Sorry. Phage, can you just make yourself discreet? We’ve got some questions.” Phage slithered into the coffee mug Jack held in his big hands. “You can tell us now that no one else is listening.”

“Yes, we are in the most strategic of planning locations, a back booth at a Denny’s.” Brock fiddled with a straw wrapper. “Why can’t I talk to Toxic, like you two talk to each other?” 

“TOXIC WAS INJURED WHEN WE WERE TAKEN FROM OUR HOME WORLD. TOXIC PROTECTED THE MOST IMPORTANT PARTS OF TOXIC. OUR PROGENY.” The sentient goo suddenly grew spikes that cracked the ceramic mug. “VENOM WAS NOT IN THE RIGHT PLACE. VENOM. HATE VENOM.”

“Calm down buddy, calm down.” Jack cooed at his symbiote. “We’ll get him. We’ll make him suffer. Does that sound good?”

“YOU WOULD DO THAT? FOR ME?” A tendril slid about Jack’s wrist, almost affectionate.

“Well, sure. There’s a whole list of people I’d like to eliminate. I’ve alphabetized it.” 

“WHY ELIMINATE WHEN YOU CAN SUBJUGATE?” Phage slunk back into the cracked cup. “WHEN A LARVAL SYMBIOTE IS INTRODUCED TO A HOST, IT BONDS WITH THE HOST REGARDLESS OF COMPATIBILITY. IT REMAKES THE HOST INTO A PERFECT SERVANT. LOYAL TO THE WHIMS OF THE LARVAL SYMBIOTE. AND THE LARVAE ARE LOYAL TO THE QUEEN.” A tendril tapped Brock on the hand. “TOXIC IS OUR QUEEN. TOXIC IS UNABLE TO COMMUNICATE, THEREFORE THE HOST SPEAKS FOR OUR QUEEN. BROCK RUMLOW IS OUR QUEEN.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Brock.” Jack snapped his fingers in front of his former commanding officer’s face as Brock silently stared down at his own gut for several minutes. “Earth to Brock. You okay?” Jack rested his hand on the back of Brock’s and Brock pulled back.

A slow, slightly hysterical giggle. “You know what Jack? I’ve had better days. I’ve really had better days. I’m full of alien babies and we still haven’t found out how they’re getting the _fuck_ out of me.”

“YOU WILL DEVELOP A BIRTHING SLIT.” Phage offered.

“I will develop a _what_?” Brock’s face contorted in horror and he hissed out a harsh whisper. “You mean, I’m going to grow a _pussy_?”

“NOT MAMMALIAN GENITALIA. A SLIT IN THE ABDOMINAL WALL. RESEALABLE.” Phage bubbled in the coffee cup, a symbiotic sigh. “NOT ALL THE LARVAE MUST BE BORN AT ONE TIME. THE HOST CAN CHOOSE WHEN IT IS SAFE TO TRANSFER A LARVAE TO ANOTHER HOST. AFTER THE FIRST BIRTH YOU WILL HAVE CONTROL.”

“Oh that’s just great. Just fabulous.” Brock clenched his fist, the tendons standing out in stark relief. “How long do I have before all this,” Brock gestured at his abdomen, “Is all ready to go?”

“SOON. WE NEED TO FIND A NEST AND GIVE FEEDINGS OF LIFE.” Phage swirled in the coffee cup.

“What do you mean ‘of _life’_?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Whose life are you feeding to the larvae?”

“YOU ARE A GOOD HOST, JACK.” Phage was quiet for a moment and then slunk back up Jack’s arm to respond in a whisper, “IT IS NECESSARY. YOU WILL HAVE A FULL LIFE.”

“Just not a long one, huh?” Jack blew out the breath he was holding. He had no illusions about dying in an old age home, not with his occupation and HYDRA’s early retirement policy. “So Brock’s a space queen bee and I’m the space worker bee feeding him my royal life force jelly through my magic dick.” Phage bobbed in agreement and Jack propped his chin on his hand. “Great. So what were you saying about you having had better days, Brock?”

The ring of blue in Brock’s eyes glowed bright. “I think that everyone responsible for this clusterfuck needs to go _down._ And I know how we’re gonna do it. Let’s go get the base of operations set up _._ ”

“OUR NEST.” Phage piped up and Jack pushed the symbiote back down into his skin.

 

The kind of motel that took cash up front wasn’t too worried about their lack of identification. Jack patted Brock on the ass as they left the squalid lobby and Brock shot him a dagger of a look. “Oh come on _sweetheart_.”

“Do that again and I’ll break your hand. Yes, I know you’ll heal. I’ll just keep breaking it.” Brock tossed him a set of keys as they reached their room and flicked on the lights. The scurrying of roaches was unmistakable.

Jack shivered. “God I hate roaches.” He’d had a stint in a Solkovian detention center after a STRIKE mission went tits up. He covered his ears at the horrible memory. “They always go for your ear canals. Nasty.”

“Obviously we got the honeymoon suite.” Brock crooned in a faux innocent tone that set the hair on Jack’s arms on end. “Hey Phage, can you eat roaches?”

“ALL LIVING THINGS ARE FOOD.” Phage replied and Jack’s gut lurched in horror.

Brock sat on the edge of the queen sized bed and smirked. “Bon appetit, Jack.”

“Oh fuck you!” Jack stomped over to the door. “I am not eating bugs. I fucking draw the line at fucking bugs.”

“Relax _sweetheart._ You have the shopping list?” Brock pulled off the comforter and tossed it in the corner. “Add some pickles on there. Dill, not sweet. I don’t know why I’m craving pickles.”

“I have a guess.” Jack hazarded a smile with too many teeth. Phage was hungry again. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll eat out.”

 

 _“You know that if you come with me, you’ll never get out of the organization.” Brock adjusted his ridiculous cross body weapon harness. Jack stifled the urge to grab it by the center buckle and pull Brock into his arms. To kiss him until his lips were bruised. To show him exactly how much Jack wanted him. How much Jack needed to own him.  “There’s no_ out. _”_

_Jack chewed on the toothpick clamped in his lips. “I’m your second in command, I go where you go.” Brock sighed as if Jack were making a tremendously stupid decision. Jack took the toothpick out of his mouth. “Look, do you want me?”_

_Brock stared at Jack with eyes that threatened to devour and destroy him. “You make your own choices, Jack Rollins. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Do you want to make the world a better place?”_

_The world could burn, as far as Jack was concerned. He had one single, burning desire and it stood before him, a vision in fluffy hair and Kevlar.“I want to make the world a better place. With you.”Brock held out his hand and Jack clasped it. It wasn’t the embrace he craved, the sweet hot thrill of conquest, but it would do. For now._

_“Welcome to HYDRA, Jack.” Brock grinned at him with perfect white teeth. “We’re going to win. We’re going to give the world the freedom it deserves.”_

 

He made a tempting target walking down the dark side street, his arms loaded with shopping bags. Jack smiled to himself and whistled a jaunty tune. He’d made a show of flashing his cash roll at the dive bar, tossing back high-proof vodka with no apparent concern for his liver. Phage instantly metabolized the alcohol in his blood stream. But that didn’t stop Jack from lurching a little to the side to really sell the pantomime. Footsteps behind him. At least three wannabe tough guys.

 

_“Please. Please don’t do this.” The traitor begged for mercy, his eyes wide with terror. His family was already dead, Brock had taken care of them while Jack stalked the traitor. Brock was methodical, killing was a means to an end. He didn’t really understand how to enjoy an assignment. Jack crouched down, cocked his head to the side and pretended to listen to the doomed man’s babbling. “I have— I have money! I have secrets! Please—“_

_Jack nodded. The man’s eyes widened with hope. Jack reached out with a blood slicked finger and tapped the traitor’s nose. “Boop.” The combat knife was between his prey’s ribs, piercing his heart, before the man blinked._

_“Quit playing with the target, Jack.” Brock admonished him over his earpiece. “Extraction and eradication in 10.”_

_“You’re no fun.” Jack wiped his knife off upon the man’s pants. “I enjoy my work.” He was HYDRA’s retirement benefit package._

 

“So if we eat more, does that mean I live longer?”

YES. Phage answered, vicious-sharp knives sprouting beneath Jack’s fingertips. It was a simple equation, it made sense. What would he do to have another day with Brock? To have the chance to hold him in his arms, to feel the pulse in Brock's neck leap beneath his fingertips? Oh Jack knew the answer to that even simpler equation. He knew the answer in his bones.  

Jack stopped and set down his bags, pretending to fumble in his pocket for something. “That’s good to know. I joined up with SHIELD and HYDRA for Brock, did you know that?” Phage dribbled down Jack’s spine, spreading into a thin layer of full body armor.

“I’ve done a lot of stupid things for that man, just to have the chance to get close to him. A lot of really fucking stupid things. And you know what?” Jack turned towards the muggers, “I don’t regret any of them.” His maw sprouted hundreds of razor teeth and he lunged forward. _Not a single one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was kinda romantic? 
> 
> *high pitched nervous giggling*


	7. Chapter 7

 

The shower was on when Jack returned to their room. Not a bad idea. A bit of ichor itched behind his ear. The arterial splatter wasn’t entirely predictable.“Hey Brock, I got some soap and shit—“ Jack grabbed one of the travel toiletry kits. “Really looking forward to brushing my teeth for some weird reason—“ He stopped when he saw Brock sitting on the fiberglass floor of the motel shower. His teeth were chattering from the cold water. Jack reached out to turn off the water.

“Leave it!” Brock rasped out. “Leave it on. I’ve— I’ve got to— get clean.”

Jack huffed out a sigh and knelt down to haul him to his feet. “Like hell I will. Look at you. Just look at you. You’ve used all the hot water. You’re a mess.” Brock slapped his hands away. Jack rolled his eyes, the slap was kitten weak. “Really? You’re going to do this now?”

“Leave me alone!” Brock covered his face in misery. “Don’t look at me.”

“Fine. I’ll close my eyes and I’ll still haul your ass out of that shower.” Jack turned off the water. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Everything!” Brock cried out. “Everything is wrong. You don’t understand. You’re some sort of unstoppable killing machine and you love it. You fucking love it! You’re a monster and you love it.” His teeth still chattered. “I’m a— I’m a fucking _freak_.” He uncurled from his ball, displaying a rounded abdomen and a slit where his navel should have been. “I’m a goddamned freak, Jack.” The fury dissipated into a whimper. “I don’t know—what to do. I don’t know— what’s happening to me—“

Phage purred in Jack’s head, warm satisfaction curled around Jack at the sight of Brock’s new body. BEAUTIFUL MATE.

“You look like a drowned kitten. Well, let’s get you warmed up, into some fresh clothes and curled up in these lovely new sleeping bags. I even got us some phones with the internet so we can find out what the hell went on while we were locked up in the Ritz-Carlton Drake hotel.” Jack was proud of that pun, but Brock didn’t seem to hear him. “Come on. Come on. Look, I can carry you or you can walk on your own.” Jack sighed and tried to soften his voice, “Come on, _babe._ ”

Brock lunged at Jack with a guttural roar of rage, he caught Jack about the knees and took him down hard upon the bathroom tile. Jack’s head bounced off the tiled floor and he saw stars. The unmistakable pressure of a knife’s edge pressed against his throat. “I am not your BABE.” Brock spat in his face. “This is not a f—f—fucking love story! I’m not _yours._ You fucking EAT people. You’re a monster. YOU’RE A MONSTER!” His eyes glowed bright as his voice reverberated and shook, water from his hair dripped unto Jack’s face like tears.

“Okay. Okay.” Jack whispered, the incredibly sharp blade parting the first layer of his skin, the pain lighting up his nerves. “You’re right. I am a monster.” His lips pulled back into a grin. “You’re right, I do love it. The power. The rush. You know, you even get used to the texture after a while. Even when the clothing gets stuck in your teeth. But what I really want to know, _babe_ , is where did you get the knife?”

Brock blinked and pulled back his hand. Glistening sharp blue claws, biologic razor blades, jutted out from his fingertips. A grin pulled at the side of his mouth and he drew the claws down Jack’s chest, parting the cotton and skin with surgical precision. Phage pulsed in wordless animal excitement, throbbing in his veins.

“Ow.” Jack protested and knocked Brock’s hand aside as Phage sealed up the cuts. “Guess you’re a proper monster now. Just like me. Can you hear it? Can you hear Toxic’s voice?”

TELL US TELL US TELL US.

Brock shook his head, still staring at his fingertips. The claws retracted and sprang forth as he flexed his fingers. “All quiet in my skull.” Phage huffed out a sigh of disappointment in Jack’s brain.

Something hot and wet soaked through Jack’s trousers. “Did you just piss on me?” Jack asked incredulously. They both looked down. Brock’s navel slit was drizzling mucus and fluid in a thick stream. _I wonder if I could_ fuck _that,_ Jack thought absently. “Babe, your gash is leaking on me.”

Brock was too stunned and horrified to reply with anything other than a soft, “Jesus Christ.” He pressed his hands against his abdomen, as if trying to hold in a gut wound. Soft, human, green eyes ringed with dark circles pleaded with Jack. “Jesus Christ.”

“BED. NOW!” Phage ordered aloud in a voice that rattled Jack’s skull and echoed against the bathroom tile. They scooped Brock up into Jack’s arms, Phage grabbing towels. Jack held a shivering Brock as Phage prepared the bed, making it into a nest of sleeping bags and shiny silver space blankets. “WE MUST FEED TOXIC.”

“Can’t I go like a week without getting alien ass banged? It really doesn’t seem like too much to ask.” Brock muttered against Jack’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut. Jack couldn’t help but hold him closer, unable to discern whether the surge of protectiveness came from Phage or himself.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not too fond of passing out from a twenty minute orgasm and losing a few weeks of my life.” Jack tried to lighten the mood and Brock buzzed his lips in irritation.

“Liar. I wish it felt that good for me. I’d take a twenty minute orgasm instead of feeling like my guts are inflated with alien jizz. I still think you got the better symbiote.” Brock extended a blue claw, flicking it open and closed like a switchblade.

“Well, you’re the Queen. I’m just a lowly scout. That’s fine. I’m used to taking orders from you. Gives me purpose in the world. Always has.” Phage began to lock them together, chest to chest. It was intimate, too personal, Brock didn’t even like him— “Fuck it.” Jack cupped Brock’s chiseled cheek in his hot hand.

Brock tried to duck his chin. “Don’t kiss me. We don’t kiss. You know we don’t kiss, Jack. I’m disgusting.”

Jack shook his head. “You’re beautiful. I’ve always thought so. The girls in accounting thought so. Half the STRIKE team had wet dreams about you screaming in their faces. You’re beautiful. Even Phage thinks so.”

“MAGNIFICENT.” Phage gurgled.

Brock rolled his eyes. “Great. A sentient slime mold thinks I’m hot because I’m stuffed full of eggs. I’m like a chicken. Or one of those weird sea turtles.”

“Still want you.” Jack ran his thumb over Brock’s lower lip. Stubble rasped against the pad. “I’ll never stop.”

“That just means you have bad taste.”

“Let’s argue about that after we’ve taken over the world. Think about it Brock. An army of alien super soldiers that are loyal only to us. To _you._ Seems like something we could handle. Seems like something we were born to do.” A surge of warmth and pleasure made Jack’s eyelids flutter. The connection, the tether was complete. “And there I go again, giving up years of my life for you. I think you’ll be a good mom to our slime babies. I mean, you did a great job pretending to be a parent for that lady scientist. Best lies I’ve ever heard. You’re a real artist in bullshit.”

Brock chewed on his lip and then huffed out, “That wasn’t bullshit.”

Jack laughed, a little loopy from the endorphins that Phage was releasing. “Sure, sure, sure. You got a vasectomy right out of high school—“

Brock interrupted, “Yeah because I knocked up my girlfriend while we were in high school. Was not doing that again. Her parents really hated me. My parents tossed me out on my ass. Hello military. There. Now you know my sad, sad fucking story.”

“Oh.” Jack blinked, stunned for a moment from his slowly cresting orgasm. “Really? Wow. I guess you didn’t want our former employer to know about that.”

“Yeah. I put all of my off the books hazard pay in a blind trust for him. And whatever I stole. Like that one warlord we took down near Solkovia. Remember his gold bathtub? Turns out he liked to store his petty cash in the medicine cabinet.” Brock flicked open his claws again, staring at the glint of light that crept down the razor keen edge. “I’m a total shit dad, but I’ll help out with college. So he can make his own choices and not turn out like me. You’re the only person I’ve ever told about him. He doesn't even know I'm alive.”

Jack laced his fingers with Brock’s talons. They were beautiful, every part of Brock was. “Did you ever give him the bicycle?”

Brock squeezed his eyes shut as if Jack had just stabbed him with his own razor claws. “Do you ever stop talking? Just— stop talking.”

“Make me.” Jack challenged back with a smirk. “There’s nothing you can do to shut me up—“ Brock pressed his lips to Jack’s, kissing him with a soft vulnerable tenderness that rendered Jack speechless with only the soft gurgling purr of Phage thrumming through his veins.

Tomorrow they’d have their revenge. Tomorrow they’d change the world. Tomorrow could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. It's been one hell of a ride.


End file.
